A person who has not done one half his day's work by ten o'clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.
El mundo es para mi una horrenda colección de recuerdos diciéndome que ella vivió y que la he perdido.
Si él estuviera en mi lugar y yo en el suyo, aunque le odiara con un odio que convirtiera mi vida en hiel, nunca hubiera levantado la mano contra él. [...] nunca le hubiera echado de su compañía, mientras ella la deseara. En el momento en que el ...
Aunque él la amase con toda la fuerza de su mezquino ser, no la amaría tanto en ochenta años como yo en un día
He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!
Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.
I have not broken your heart - you have broken it - and in breaking it, you have broken mine ... I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer - but yours! How can I?
I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer - but yours! How can I?
In the first place, his startling likeness to Catherine, connected him fearfully with her. That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least – for what is not connected with her to me? and what doe...
You loved me-then what right had you to leave me? What right-answer me-for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it....
But I begin to fancy you don't like me. How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me. (Catherine Linton, nee Earnshaw)
Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.
it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of such complete exile from the world